Submissions by Jori

I think in that moment

When your hand met mine

And your fingers touched my palm

Brushing the back of my hand

I realized I smiled

I am a story; a mystery

Not one that has you biting your nails

Nor keeps you up at night

But a mystery, none the less

A reader comes to my otherwise empty bookshelf,

Picks my story up,

Picks it apart

Until they reach the ending; no longer a mystery

Then like any other mediocre novel

I am put down once again and left

Until the next reader comes along